Draenethyst Fragments
by Midnathething
Summary: Stories set in World of Warcraft. Chapter One: Kamui shifted uncomfortably, eyeing the Forsaken farmer with a small frown.


**Author's Note: So this idea wandered into my head and wouldn't leave until I wrote it. Like most fanfiction this is non-canon, (Please don't scour Duskwallow for a farm that doesn't exist) it would take place before Cataclysm though. I suspect that the farmer in this story was inspired by Gory, the abomination who wanted to be a farmer.  
**

 **I'd assume that it's obvious since I'm writing fanfiction, but I don't own _Warcraft_ or _World of Warcraft_.**

 **-Midnathething**

Shifting in his saddle, Kamui looked around Duskwallow Marsh with a frown. He'd gone to Theramore to escape constant battles against the Hoard that came with living in the Eastern Kingdoms. His life was far more peaceful because of it but he hadn't expected Kalimdor to be so... Swampy. The paladin shook his head; He needed to focus on his mission, a quest to find and speak with Jarl at Swamplight Manor. The task was proving itself to be easier said than done.

He wasn't sure when but Kamui was certain he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere. He was lost. Sighing, the paladin nudged his horse's sides. In response its pace increased to a canter. All he needed to do was retrace his steps, then he would be back on the right path... It sounded simple but he'd been going in circles for half an hour now. Kamui bit back a curse.

When an unfamiliar farm came into sight he nearly cheered. Instead, he murmured a quiet, "Thank the light," to himself. Lightly tugging back on the reigns, he slowed his horse's pace to a walk. Finding this building meant that he'd stopped going in circles and - hopefully - gave him a chance of finding someone who could give him directions. The paladin rounded the corner and froze.

The building, it turned out, was a farm house. Tending to the farm's fields was a member of the Hoard, one of the Forsaken. Pinpricks of ice dancing down his spine, Kamui wondered if he could slip away from the farm before the undead farmer noticed him. He'd barely finished the thought before his horse noticed the Forsaken man and froze, spooked. Chances of a quiet escape evaporated when the farmer heard Kamui's horse and looked up, rotting brow creased in confusion.

The undead farmer's eyes narrowed when he saw the paladin and he muttered something, probably a curse, in Gutterspeak. He cleared his throat - A terribly unpleasant noise, Kamui quickly concluded, to hear from someone whose throat was rotting - and called a cautious, "Paladin." in Common.

Kamui called an uncertain, "Farmer," in return.

Rolling his eyes, the Forsaken farmer sighed. "Did you want something?"

"Erm, yes." Kamui licked his lips, which had suddenly grown dry, "Could you give me directions to Swamplight Manor?"

The farmer made a strange - almost hallow - noise that sounded close to an amused snort. "Swamplight's south of here. Still not on the map, then?"

"Of course not, that would make things too easy..." A bitter sigh escaped Kamui's lips. After a moment he asked, "Still?"

"Most of my visitors," The undead farmer's focus had returned to his crops, "Are lost adventurers trying to find the place."

"I see..." Kamui answered, voice wavering in surprise.

Something about his tone - Maybe the way it had wavered? - must have irritated the farmer because his head snapped back up, rotting features twisted into a scowl. "Is something the matter, human?"

Kamui considered his response carefully, stomach twisting with unease. He would prefer to avoid a fight if possible; the idea of returning the irate farmer to the clutches of death did not appeal to the paladin. Eventually he simply answered with the truth, "I wasn't expecting one of the Forsaken to be a farmer. Technically the undead don't need to eat, so..." He trailed off uncomfortably.

"You don't think _Lady Sylvanas_ ," There was an audible sneer, "Would waste valuable troops farming? The rest of the Hoard need to eat too, paladin."

Chewing his lip Kamui reluctantly nodded. "That is true; But why would you want a farm in Duskwallow Marsh? I'm sure there are better locations for a farm in Kalimdor." He chose not to question the farmer's hostility towards Windrunner; Small talk was less likely to get him stabbed.

"Because this is where the people of Lordaeron went. The ones who lived."

"What?" Genuine bafflement colored the human's tone.

Sighing the farmer returned his attention to Kamui. "Perhaps it was before you were old enough to remember, but what to you know about the Forsaken and their origins?"

"Well," Kamui carefully considered what he'd been told. How much had been truth and how much had been lies, told to turn him against the Hoard's forces? "The Forsaken live under the ruins of Lordaeron and the city is now known as Undercity. They're led by the banshee Sylvanas, who used to be a high elf. And-"

"The first of the Forsaken were - _are_ \- the citizens of Lordaeron." The farmer interrupted, apparently irritated with the pace at which Kamui related what he knew.

Kamui grimaced, "Yes," His voice was quiet; He'd unintentionally began using the same tone he would at a funeral. "And the Forsaken were once the people of Lordaeron."

Eyes flashing with anger, the undead farmer demanded, ""Were once,"?!"

"That is what I was told, most likely with the intent of turning me against your people. With the intent to encourage me to fight the Forsaken for the Alliance. Everything's about this damned struggle between the factions nowadays..." Kamui explained, bitterness returning to his tone.

These words - Oddly enough - seemed to pacify the undead farmer. "Unfortunately, you're right." He sighed. "I have a farm in Duskwallow Marsh because I wanted to be near Theramore. I wanted to be near the _living_ people of Lordaeron and their children. The crops I grow are sent to feed the city's people."

Without thinking the human asked, "Why don't you live in the city, then? Or even just bit closer _to_ the city?"

"I'm just a reminder of out people's unfortunate past." Another sigh. "Look, if you're worried about it perhaps you could take this letter to Lady Jaina? It's a list of what I'll need before the next harvest."

The paladin nodded, adjusting his grip on the reigns. When he left it was with the undead farmer's letter in hand.


End file.
